we as a society truly moved on too fast from
"Why do we breathe air? Because we love air? Because we don't want to suffocate. Why do we eat? Because we don't want to starve. How do I know I love her? Because I can sleep after I talk to her. Why?"
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The fact that Zoro, the second he joined Luffy, made him a pirate captain and brought the Straw Hat Pirates into existence.
And the fact that, as long as Zoro stays by Luffy's side, the Straw Hat Pirates will never cease to be.
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Bruce watches Steph, at his side, and memorizes the lines in her face, the tilt of her smile, the spark in her eyes, and tries to pull it away from the images before her. All those who wore the red green and yellow. There is such anger in her, anger he can see in the curl of her fists, in the tenseness of her shoulders. But she covers it, buries it. Replaces it with a smile, a laugh. Unfurls her fingers to help someone to their feet, to give someone a high five, to twine them with his, instead. Bruce can see Jason in every aggressive exhale, every backflip and jump, trusting Bruce to be there to catch her. He can hear Dick in every pun, every funny quip, every bit of sass she throws at him, as easy as her smiles, when he says something she disagrees with. She’s never shy with her opinion of him. He can feel Tim in every hug, with every cock of her head as she scans a crime scene, the way her fingers drum against his thigh, or his head, or his back when she’s thinking. And it hurts. These memories, these reminders of the Robins that have come before. Of the Robin that have all fulfilled their namesake and flown from the nest. Robin means moving on, but Bruce is selfish. He wants her to stay, wants them all to stay, huddled beneath his cape. He knows, probably before she does, that she doesn’t need the Robin cape. That she’s ready for a different color. That the yellow and red and green don’t suit her. He wonders, idly, in the back of his mind, if black would. But he lets her pretend, lets her run at his side, and he treasures every comment, every sly smile, every hug. She craves the touch the way Dick did, the way Jason and Tim did. And he hates it. Hates how they all needed it. That he was the first one to actually offer it to them. Comforting touch. Safe touch. Non violent touch. He keeps her, selfishly, at his side, keeps her beneath the Robin colors, keeps her at the Manor. She deserves more, she deserves to fly free, just as the others have done, but she is content, for now, to follow his lead, to grapple a second after him, instead of before. And Bruce is selfish. And he lets her. He knows, deep in his heart, it will not last. That she will tire of the colors as all the others have, but the thought settles in his chest, cradled and nurtured by his heart, protected by his ribs. Robin moves on. But she has not. Not yet. And he will keep her for as long as she allows, he will admire her in the cage that is Gotham, the cage that is his presence. “Batman?” Her chirp, as much the bird as she is named after, is cautious, but fond. “You still with me B?” He smiles, because he can, because she’s here, because she deserves it, and she offers him one of her grins in return. “I’m with you.” He confirms. And as she loads her grapple gun, cocking her head at him in question, he knows it’s true. He fires his own, letting the sound of her shot comfort him, thrum through his body like a second heartbeat, and whispers the words to himself, to her, a promise. “I will always be with you.”
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